


A Way Out

by cre8iveovadose



Series: Imagine Loki One-Shots [4]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Depression, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Tumblr: imagine-loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 18:59:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17391869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cre8iveovadose/pseuds/cre8iveovadose
Summary: There comes a time in every depressive episode when you just have to give in to it.





	A Way Out

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Imagine Loki prompt "Imagine Loki comforting you when your depression takes over, him trying his best to take care of you." on tumblr. Enjoy :)

There comes a time in every depressive episode when you just have to give in to it. You fight the sensation that gravity has increased, weighing your limbs down, until it’s easier to just sink down. You try to eat three times a day until it becomes too complicated deciding what to have so you just don’t eat anything. You ignore the voice in the back of your head telling you you’re worthless or stupid or whatever until you just get so tired of listening to it that you invite it to sit down so you don’t have to keep closing the door on it anymore.

I reached that point two days ago.

I didn’t even roll out of bed before I heard the whispers of my uselessness anymore. All I could do was shuffle around and wonder when Loki would be back. I admired his obligation to Asgard but the time we spent apart always took a toll that I paid more than he ever seemed to.

I wasn’t mad at him for going. I just needed him here.

The only things I had the energy to do were sleep and watch TV. I could barely even flick through the channels, the myriad options too overwhelming to choose between. I’d watch reality TV, kids’ programming, cooking shows. All the voices just droned on in the background as I oscillated between slumber and wakefulness.

Until the horror movie came on.

I’d stopped watching horror movies years ago when I realised the violent sound effects triggered my self-harm urges. Between the bloody imagery and the general sense of unease, I always came away from a slasher film with a distinct urge to carve myself up until I couldn’t feel anything anymore. There was something irresistible about this gothic romance that I couldn’t take my eyes off of, though, and I knew I would pay the price once the characters started slashing each other to ribbons.

Every gash on the screen sparked something in the grimmest part of my brain. All I wanted was something cutting into me, to see the blood against my skin. When the film was finished and I was sufficiently shaken, I slipped into the bathroom and let my blood flow. Pain washed through me like a cleansing breath; the cuts deeper than I should have let them be. Relapsing was the easiest damn thing in the world.

I crawled into bed, a fresh bandage wrapped around the cuts. I lay on my side with my arm stretched out before me, pressing and prodding the fabric to keep the pain flowing. I fell asleep to the burn of my torn up skin and the film-induced worry that I was not alone.

 

* * *

 

I woke the next morning to the sound of the front door slamming shut. I heard the familiar thunk of boots on the wooden floor before that familiar voice pierced the air.

“Oh, come on, I just finished cleaning up Thor’s mess.”

I smiled to myself, knowing Loki would fuss about the state of the kitchen and the living room. At least I’d managed to do the dishes before my energy had completely wasted away.

I turned onto my back and felt my arm sticking to something. I looked down and saw small splotches of blood on the bandage. When I pressed down, my fingers came away stained with red. My stomach churned a little as I wondered if I’d gone too far this time. I don’t have time to figure it out before Loki appears in the bedroom doorway.

“What happened?” He asked, peering down at me. “Why are you still in bed? It’s almost noon.”

I shifted my arm limply. “I got sick again.” I can’t say the D word out loud. Loki knows that. We talk around it in metaphors and allusions most of the time thanks to my inability to admit what’s wrong with me.

He came forward, his emerald green cape fanning out behind him. He looked silly in his Asgardian garb here but I couldn’t deny I enjoyed the vision of the concerned prince when he crouched down beside the bed and gingerly held my arm.

“You hurt yourself?” He asked.

I want to say it was an accident but that’s a lie too big for both of us. We both know it’s never an accident, regardless of what I tell other people if they see scars or the bright edge of a bandage under a sleeve. I just nod.

He stood up only to sit on the edge of the bed, watching me with sadness in his bright blue eyes. “How long have you been in bed?”

I glanced to the clock and calculated. “Nine hours, this round.”

“And how long have you been like this?” His eyes flicked to my bandaged arm for a moment before he settled his gaze on my face.

“A couple of days.”

“You didn’t try to contact me? I gave you that enchanted paper for a reason. For this reason.”

I opened my mouth but realised I didn’t have an answer. I don’t know why I didn’t send him a message. Probably because it was easier to give in than to ask for help.

He sighed, brushing my oily hair back from my face. “Oh darling, when are you going to realise I’m here to help you? That’s what you do when you love someone. Don’t you know that?”

“I do not.”

Loki leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “Let me get changed and get you something to eat, alright?”

I nodded and watched as he disappeared back out to the kitchen. I heard the rattle of packets and the clink of cups before he returned with pretzels and cold water. He set them down on the bedside table before he changed out of his clothes and into pyjamas. I shuffled over, barely stifling a gasp when I put too much weight on my arm, and he crawled into bed beside me.

“Eat,” he said, passing me the pretzels, “while I look at your arm. It shouldn’t be bleeding like this.”

I did as I was told, holding my arm out to him and watching as he deftly unwrapped the bandage. I whimpered when it tugged at the raw cuts but Loki gently reassured me.

“They’re angry and they’re too deep but you’ll be alright,” he murmured. “Any idea what triggered you to this?”

“Horror movie on TV. Didn’t have the energy to turn it off.”

“What about the overall episode?”

I shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. I thought I’d gotten better at figuring out when I was getting bad again but,” I gestured to my wrist, “obviously not.”

Loki held my hand, smoothing his thumb over my palm. “Would this have happened if I’d been here?”

I felt tears prickle at my eyes. “This isn’t your fault. This is never your fault.”

“Then what can we do to stop it from happening? You can’t keep doing this to yourself, my love.”

I bit my lip. “I don’t know how to stop.”

Loki tightened his grip on my hand. “We’ll find a way. If I can find a secret way out of Asgard, we can find a way out of this.”

I looked down at the criss cross of faded scars across both my arms. “What if there isn’t a way out? What if I’m stuck like this?”

“Then I’ll be stuck with you.”

We lay together, Loki’s arms wrapped around me, and I knew that no matter what my depression tried to tell me and whatever it tried to do to me, I would always have him to look after me. To find the way out.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :) Kudos and comments keep me sane ^.^ - Em xoxo


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